


in your warmth i forget how cold it can be

by sad_ghost_kid



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Capture, Gen, Rescue, Whump, cara is bamf, everyone lives au, fairly graphic depictions of injury, it's just self indulgent whump you guys, literally wrote almost a quarter of this on my 10 at work yesterday, mando gets captured after a job gone wrong and cara comes to his rescue, mando is out of it, mentions of baby yoda IG and kuill, post S1, shippy if you want but it's up to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:46:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22078678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sad_ghost_kid/pseuds/sad_ghost_kid
Summary: "Captured," he remembered, barely lucid, "locked in a cell."
Relationships: Cara Dune & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 338





	in your warmth i forget how cold it can be

**Author's Note:**

> what can i say, the world needs more mando whump. inspired by the concept art panel from s1 ep 6 of mando in the prison cell ;)
> 
> title from "warmth" by bastille. bc i am a sap.

_** Bam! ** _

The Mandalorian gasped awake, his senses returning abruptly at the sudden crash. 

Yet before he could so much as register the cause of the sound that woke him, pain flared to life like dozens of vibroknives, splintering through every limb. His back arched as a low, rasping groan pushed past his lips, only to cut short as the movement spurred a blaze of agony deep in each of his shoulders. He became excruciatingly aware of the awkward, likely dislocated angle they were bent in--up and over his head, cuffed to the wall of his cell. 

_ Captured, _ he remembered, barely lucid,  _ locked in a cell. _

_ Failed. _

Darkness was rapidly crowding at the edges of his visor, closing in like smoke. The room had begun to spin, dragging him down again. 

Then, just before he could slip into unconsciousness, the door before him opened with a sudden, jarring hiss. 

Stark against the surrounding white walls, a figure clad in black entered the cell. The Mandalorian froze, stiff and still as a cold panic flooded his veins. Straining beneath the blur, haze, and ache in his skull, he could not discern the identity of the person before him. But if the holes in his memory were any testament, it was likely that pain was to follow. 

Just barely cognizant enough to know that he was utterly defenseless, the Mandalorian could do no more than close his eyes to brace himself as the figure advanced. They were upon him in an instant. 

"Dyn! Dyn, it's me--it's Cara."

The voice felt distant beyond the thunder of his heart within his helmet. It was who?

When he didn't respond, he felt hands at the cuffs on his wrists, and the movement sent strikes of lightning radiating from his shoulders. He grunted, flinching away but getting nowhere. 

"It's okay, I've got you."

Through the pain, he soon felt the telltale release of the cuffs; he groaned involuntarily, voice thin, as the weight fell on his shoulders. And as his arms were carefully lowered to his sides, that groan hitched in his throat, becoming a quiet keen of agony. Distorted by his helmet's modulator, it sounded strange, distant. Almost like the pain belonged to someone else. Smoke was closing in again. 

"Shit, both your shoulders are dislocated," the voice spat. The words didn't register. 

_"Damn Imps,_ okay, hold still Mando--gonna reset the left on three--"

Three seconds later, the Mandalorian screamed. 

. . .

He faded back into awareness what felt like hours later, but as the glaring white of the cell pressed through the helmet's visor into his eyes, he could only wonder if it had been days. Slowly, he turned his head, shying away from the light. 

"You're awake--" the voice from before was above him now, as if he'd been laid flat. The cold seeping into his back didn't contradict that, either. "Thought maybe I... maybe I lost you for a minute there..."

There was a brief pressure on the top of his thigh, then again on the other, leaving a familiar weight in its wake that his hazy mind could not identify. He soon felt it again at his left forearm. Then at his right. Something about it was comforting, and for a moment he felt... safe--until that same pressure was applied to his chest. Pain broke through to the forefront of his consciousness once again as bruised and broken ribs groaned beneath the heaviness, causing his breath to hitch and grow shallow. When that same weight settled at each strained and injured shoulder, he flinched, instinctively shying away. 

"I found your armor," the voice said, quiet, "sorry it hurts--didn't wanna leave it behind."

_ His armor?  _

**_ Oh.  _ **

"...Cara?" the Mandalorian rasped, voice almost nothing but a whisper of modulated static. Finally, the smoke began to clear. 

"Hey buddy, glad you're back."

He blinked, bidding his vision to sharpen.  _ A concussion, _ he remembered, as the sight of Cara finally came into focus above him. She was smiling softly, like she had on Navarro, and his heart sank as he realized the implications. 

"How... bad..?" he managed, finding that his voice and mouth did not want to cooperate. He tried lifting his arm, but Cara placed her hand on it, keeping it down. 

"Just a few bumps and bruises," she immediately supplied, smiling in a way that only highlighted the anxiety in her eyes. Even a mudhorn could tell that she was lying. Speaking of which--

"The kid... is he--?" 

"He's fine. Safe and sound with Kuiil and IG, right where you left him." A pause. "It was Kuiil who sent me to find you. Said you hadn't been answering his hails."

"Oh."

It grew quiet for several moments as Cara pressed bandages to the still-bleeding cuts that had broken through his flight suit. It had taken a great deal of force to capture him, after all.

Voice low, Cara was the first to break the silence, "It's going to hurt, but the sooner we get out of here, the better."

"Right," the Mandalorian responded, just as quietly. He swallowed, then sucked in a breath, "Ready when you are."

The pain that came as she hauled him to his feet, her shoulder beneath his, ripped another harsh moan from his throat. It felt as if his shoulder would once again pull free of its socket--if not from his entire body. He was nearly dead weight against her, dazed as white spots danced across his vision like snow. 

It was only her voice that cut through it, bringing him back, "Do you think you can walk?"

His breathing was harsh and rapid now, but the grinding of his ribs was blotted out by the pull of bone and tendon. Growing desperate, he nodded stiffly, "Go."

She took a single step, and he mirrored it, knees locked. She took another, and he followed. Their progress was slow, but consistent. And with his eyes pressed tightly shut to focus on moving forward, the Mandalorian never saw the carnage of half a dozen dead guards strewn before the door of his cell. 

**Author's Note:**

> i may continue this, but no promises. hope you liked it!


End file.
